


Taken For a Ride

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, Moresomes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-17
Updated: 2008-04-17
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Or: The Reason Why Gene Doesn't Let Anyone Else Drive the CortinaWritten for theAnonymous Pornfest. The prompt was "Gene/Cortina: that's it, thought that would be enough"





	Taken For a Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **Pairing:** Gene/Cortina

It was love at first sight. The moment he saw her bronze curves glistening in the sunlight, Gene knew he had to have her.

 

 

It took a long, torturous week of negotiation. First with the bank manager, then with his wife and, finally, with the dealer. But the first time he slipped behind the steering wheel as her owner, well. It was one of those treasured moments, to be locked in the scrapbook of his mind along with the memories of the first girl he had seen naked and the first time he had sex.

 

 

He started this relationship slowly, running his hands over the steering wheel, the dashboard, the gearstick. Adjusting the seat and mirrors so everything was just right. Perfect. Just like the car. He took his time before, finally, pulling on his driving gloves and turning the ignition key. She started first time, the deep purr of her engine vibrating through the chassis, through the seat, setting his nerve endings alight in pure joy. Caressing the gearstick with his right hand, Gene pulled off the forecourt, waving a nonchalant goodbye to the dealer.

 

 

But he was anything but nonchalant. The unceasing throb of the engine travelled up his spine, reaching deep inside him, causing an indefinable ache in the pit of his stomach. The sound and smell of the car enveloped him, pulled him in, taking over his senses and instincts until he felt as he and the car were one. And, as he shifted into fourth gear, that melding became complete.

 

 

Gene was suddenly aware of hands caressing his body, running over his chest exactly like his hands gently running over the steering wheel. Rough material snagging at his skin in the same way that his gloves were rough. The touch just enough to be maddening. As he took hold of the gearstick and shifted down to third, a hand brushed his hardening cock.

 

 

He instinctively stamped on the break, jerking in his seat, and narrowly avoided being rear-ended by a following car. He tentatively reached out again, dragging a forefinger over the top of the gear stick and groaned aloud as he felt a corresponding fingertip caress the tip of his cock. He gazed in the rear-view mirror for a moment, fingers idly tapping and rubbing at the steering wheel, coincidentally corresponding to a particularly sensitive part of his body, before making a decision. Pulling back out into the road, he drove with purpose and with a clear sight for his destination.

 

 

It wasn't far, but it seemed an interminable journey with every touch of the wheel, every gear shift being acted out on his own body. By the time he parked down by the canal, on a lonely stretch of gravel, Gene was harder than he had ever been, almost sobbing in frustration. He left her engine running as he ran his hands over the dashboard, caresses along his cheek, across his lips. Fingers nipping and scratching at the steering wheel as little pricks of pleasure/pain blossomed over his skin. 

 

 

He eyed the gearstick thoughtfully, not daring to even confess to himself what he wanted to do. He pushed his thoughts back, instinct taking over and turned in his seat, bending forwards, hands grasping round the stick as his tongue came out to dart over the knob. The taste was slightly metallic, with an indefinable undertone, bitter and heavy. He ran the tip of his tongue over the grooves, the gear positions etched into the plastic. He groaned as he felt the same, tongue running over his slit, tasting the pre-come, before he opened his lips wide and took the whole of the knob into his mouth, suckling.

 

 

His hips bucked under the sensations as his left hand started to caress the wheel again, grasping and pinching. His right hand squeezing and rubbing the length of the stick even has he sucked harder, using his tongue to increase the pressure.

 

 

Lost in sensation, he couldn't be sure, but the engine sounded different somehow. At the same time higher pitched, but deeper. The throbbing now not so regular and as Gene gave one last pump of the stick and came hard, body tensing and shuddering in the small space, the engine cut out completely.

 

 

Gene sat up, the knob of the gearstick exiting his mouth with a quiet pop, and attempted to rearrange himself. He wasn't going to analyse to deeply what had just happened and he mopped up as best he could before setting about getting back home.

 

 

But one thing was for sure. No-one else was going to drive his car.


End file.
